The Lovers and the Frog
by IchirakuGleekFreek1214
Summary: Arthur and Alfred seem to have the perfect relationship, that is until, Francis gets involved and scars Arthur for life!  literally!  Now because of one night, Arthur keeps having nightmares about that night and can't seem to tell Alfred? Will they work?
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

_ "There's no point in trying to fight it, Angleterre, you know you want it..."_

Those words rang in Arthur's head as he violently woke from his terrifying sleep. He tried as hard as he could to relax, hoping he didn't wake his American lover up. Luckily, he hadn't. The younger nation did have a tendency of sleeping heavily. It was nights like this night, which had been almost every night for last two weeks now, that he had been thankful for that. A now composed yet still sleepy Arthur laid back down and was face-to-face with a motionless, sleeping Alfred. Though he'd never let Alfred know, Arthur had to admit that he was kind of cute when he slept. Just catching a glimpse of his face alone was enough to calm his nerves and lull him back to sleep. And back to sleep he went.

**~~~~~~~~~~OOOOOOOOO~~~~~~~~~~**

_ "He can't be a better lover than moi, Arthur. I'm ze best zere is," a certain French pervert had commented to Arthur. Said Frenchmen pressed himself to the Briton and started caressing him, head to chest. _

_ "Get your filthy hands off of me, you bloody frog!" exclaimed the Brit as he pushed the Frenchman off and smacked his hand away. _

_ "Oh, ma chère, why are you so cruel to ze one who loves you most?"_

_ "DON'T MOCK ME, FRANCIS!"_

_ "Mock you? Oh, non, mon amour, I'm just stating facts." Francis' comments, reasonably, didn't sit well with Arthur. _

_ "Get the bloody hell away from me!"_

_ Francis, now becoming more aggressive, grabs a hold of Arthur's arms and pins him to the wall. _

_ "Mon amour, he can never love you like I do."_

Again, Arthur jerked up form his nightmare. He, like before, abrubtly and violently arose from his slumber, this time, stifling any noises. He checked to see if Alfred was awake. Still sound asleep.

Arthur sighed. _"When will these absurd dreams stop?"_ he thought.

Arthur, now in a state trying to calm himself, was so delved into his confusion that he hadn't noticed the bit of rustling on the other side of the bed. He didn't notice anything until a strong arm made its way around his waist.

"Arthur," said the blonde American as he was attempting to wake himself up while propping himself up on his arms. "Are you okay?"

Hesitantly, Arthur replied "...um...yes, love, I'm alright, just go back to sleep."

"Are you sure? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

_"No, it's much worse than that, Alfred."_ Arthur thought. "No, it's nothing," he expressed verbally. "I just had a bad dream is all, I'm fine."

There was a brief pause before Alfred spoke again. "Alright, if you say so."

Arthur laid back, facing his blue-eyed lover. He leaned in closer to him and gently pressed his lips to his lover's.

"Goodnight, Alfred," Arthur whispered.

"Mm...goodnight, Iggy" Alfred mumbled, now losing the battle to sleep. If Arthur weren't as tired as he was, he would've scolded him about calling him "Iggy." But now, he was just extremely tired, but was afraid to go to sleep in fears of having another nightmare.

_"Bloody hell,"_ he thought. _"This definitely has to stop!"_

_

* * *

_**Okay, guys!**

**That is the end of the prologue. I'll try to get chapter 1 up as soon as possible...but I can't make any real promises as to when. But anyways, thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed.**

**Review please!**

**Translations (all French):  
**

**_Angleterre: _England**

**_moi: _me**

**_ma chère: _my dear  
**

**_mon amour: _My love_  
_**


	2. Valentine's Day Morning

_**Chapter 1: Valentine's Day Morning**_

"Arthur, hurry up! You've been in there for like an hour already!" Alfred yelled from the other side of the bathroom door. Though it was rare for Arthur to take such a long time in the bathroom, he felt like he needed to do so this particular morning. He was still trying to shake off those feelings of horror and confusion that he had the night before. He still couldn't understand why _that_ night was haunting him the way it did. But more importantly, he couldn't figure out why he couldn't tell Alfred. But there was still no _possible_ way he could tell him about what happened between him and the wretched frog. It was too disgusting to even _think _about, let alone talk about. On top of that, there was no telling how Alfred might react if he knew about it. One could only safely assume that he'd kill someone (someone being Francis). Though he didn't like Francis all that much, Arthur still didn't want that to happen. He figured he might as well just keep it to himself for a little while, just until he can mentally straighten things out.

"Arthur, are you dead or something?" The Brit was snapped out his train of thoughts at that call.

"No, I'm not dead, you git!" Arthur shouted back.

"Well then, hurry up and get out of the bathroom already! I have to pee and the meeting starts in 45 minutes! We're gonna be late!"

Whoa! Arthur couldn't believe that he let time slip by him away from in such a way. He **really** needed to get it together. But before he could do anything else, he had to correct Alfred's improper grammar.

"It's 'going to', not 'gonna', moron!" After saying that, he opened the bathroom door, letting his blue-eyed lover in. Said lover was in too much of a rush to even acknowledge Arthur's scolding, or even close the bathroom door for that matter.

In the midst of nearly completely sleepless nights, Arthur totally lost sight of the world meeting that was being held today. It just happened to be "conveniently" located in Paris, and of all days, on Valentine's Day. Arthur's luck seriously couldn't get **any** worse. But he didn't want to test his luck either. He knew it was going to be a long day, but he decided to just carry on with it nonetheless.

Grabbing his suitcase from the closet, he opened it and pulled out some of his usual clothing and got dressed on the bed rather quickly, reminding himself that he had to hurry. With only his pants on, Arthur gets an early morning surprise when a fully energized and fully dressed Alfred charges toward the bed from the bathroom and jumps on top of his British lover.

"What the hell are you-" Arthur tried to ask before a pair of rosy red lips were pressed to his. The younger nation continued to press small yet sweet kisses on the older nation's lips, neck and chest. What _could_ have been awesome morning sex was interrupted by a knock on the lovers' hotel room door. They both looked at the door for a couple of seconds and went back to their activities. The knocks grew louder. Still, they tried to ignore it. Despite their wishes, the knocks only continued.

"We can't leave them out there," Arthur said once the couple broke away.

"Yes, we can," replied a very anxious Arthur. "If we ignore 'em long enough, they'll go away."

The Briton ignored both his comment and improper grammar. "Alfred." he said sternly.

"Fine," spoke a now disappointed American as he moved off the Brit and laying on the bed face-up. Before the older man could move off the bed, the younger man grabbed him by his wrist and pulling him for another kiss on the lips. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said lovingly.

A surge of pain and guilt crawled its way up Arthur's spine, though he had managed to hide it. He leaned in to give him another kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day," he replied, while getting up and trying to hide the embarassment and guilt he felt in saying that, although feeling a breeze of relief and comfort.

The knocks came again. This time, Arthur finally answered the door. A petite woman with light brown hair, grey eyes and a French maid's uniform on stood in front of the door with a bouquet of roses in her left hand and a card in the right.

Reading off of the card in hand, she said, "I am looking for a Monsieur Artur Kirkland."

"I'm Arthur Kirkland," he replied. She handed him the flowers.

"Thank you," he said before sending her on her way. He, though he'd never admit, was actually warmed by the thought of Alfred, uncharacteristically, giving him flowers. While walking back into the room, he smelled the flowers and grabbed the note that was in them. His face turned from a bright and happy expression to a very angry and disgusted expression once reading the note.

_"Joyeuse Saint-Valentin, Angleterre. Je t'aimerai toujours et à jamais._

_ -Francis"_

He was officially pissed! He really couldn't stand that perverted frog! He threw the flowers and the card in the trash can next to the closet.

"Arthur, what was that about?" asked Alfred, who was leaning back up.

"Oh nothing, just the maids. Hey, we should hurry up and get going now, we're going to be late."

"Maybe we wouldn't be if..."

"Don't finish that sentence!"

"'Kay, Iggy." That comment earned Alfred a glare from the Briton, which caused the American belt out in laughter.

Arthur continued to put the rest of his clothes on, but was now noticeably irritated and tense. Alfred felt the waves of tension that were radiating off his lover, so he moved next to him on the bed and kissed him on the forehead.

"Relax, okay?" he said.

Arthur looked up to see Alfred's innocently wide smile. He'd always loved that smile.

"Okay."

Just his smile alone enough to melt away any frustrations or worries that Arthur had at that particular moment.

Too bad that he'd had have to kill Francis today.

* * *

**Note Translation:**

_**Joyeuse Saint-Valentin, Angleterre. Je t'aimerai toujours et **_**_à jamais:_ Happy Valentine's Day, England. I will love you always and forever.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed that chapter!**

**Personally, I like writing this one only because of how adorable England and America are together *tear***

**But anyways, please review!  
**


	3. At The Meeting Pt 1

_**Chapter 2: At the Meeting Pt. 1**_

England and America had finally arrived at the world meeting, a whole 45 minutes late. Luckily, the meeting didn't start when they arrived. But, of course, it couldn't go on without the hero!

When the couple entered the conference room, they were welcomed by irritated glares by some of the nations.

"Vere have you been?" Ludwig asked, as mildly as an angry German could.

"Well-" Arthur started before he was cut off by his hyperactive boyfriend.

"Ok, what had happened was-" Somehow, Ludwig did the close-to-impossible, cut America off.

"Don't even say it. I **really** don't vant to know."

The couple took their seats at the long desk, seated next to each other at the end of the right side of the table. When all the countries, excluding a missing France, were seated comfortably,the lights in the room went dim and smoke started to appear around the nations' feet. Then, a spotlight flashed on France, who was standing in the center of the room on Arthur's side of the table with a rose in hand and a slight smirk on his face. All the nations sweatdropped and sighed. There was no was telling with Francis.

"Bonjour, mes amis," the violet-eyed nation started. "Welcome to beautiful France. I am happy to welcome all ze nations here on zis gorgeous Saint-Valentin." He paused and discreetly winked at Arthur, causing said Briton's skin crawl. The green-eyed man rolled his eyes and looked around the room, at nothing in particular. He just didn't want to look at Francis.

"To express my gratitude, I shall sing-" He was cut off when Ludwig quickly walked by the lightswitch and turned on the lights. He, like everyone, didn't want to even find out what he was planning.

"Seriously, France," Ludwig started, almost pleaded. "Just get on vith it."

"Are you sure you don't want to-" Francis was interrupted again.

"Yes!" the other nations replied.

After that, the meeting continued, without any of France's _obvious_ shenanigans.

**~~~~~~~~~OOOOOO~~~~~~~~~**

The meeting had carried on as usual: nothing got accomplished. Instead, the usual chaos occurred: France, England and America foolishly arguing, Russia intimidating the Baltic States, Italy babbling on about pasta, Greece sleeping through the whole thing, Korea bothering China and Germany having to swoop in and control things. But once things were settling, there was a small occurrence that made the meeting unusual. While only smirking and keeping a calm composure, France was purposely distracting by sliding his hand onto Arthur's lap, causing the Brit to making a jumping motion in efforts to smack his hand away. This continued for over 5 minutes. Though Arthur tried to keep still and composed, Alfred had noticed his movements.

Leaning over to whisper to golden-blonde lover, Alfred asked, "Are you okay? You're moving a lot, which really isn't like you to do at a meeting."

"Hm? Oh, um, yes, I'm fine."

The brownish-blonde man raised an eyebrow at the older man in confusion and disbelief, but decided to drop it.

"If you say so."

When the meeting was dismissed, all the countries excluding France promptly left the room. England, however, was the last to leave. Only being a few steps out of the doorway, Francis decided to take this time to Arthur alone.

"Oh Angleterre," he called. Arthur shivered at the sound of his name being called by _him._ "Angleterre."

"What is it, Francis?" he asked, clearly irritated, but still re-entered the room.

"Did you enjoy ze flowers?"

Again, at the very sound of Francis' voice, Arthur shuddered.

"No, I didn't," he replied sternly. "They smelled awful, they were half-dead and I couldn't read a bloody word on the card."

"Oh, mon amour, zat hurts, right here," Francis said while dramatically pointing to his heart. "But I can tell you what it said, since it was from ze heart."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Spare me the crap, Francis. I'll be on my way."

Turning away, Arthur began to walk out of the room, that is, until Francis grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

"Why, Artur, why don't you want to stay with me? Don't you love me?" Francis' voice had a mocking tone to it.

"No, I don't love you, stupid git! You make me sick, you bleeding frog!"

"Oh, and I suppose zat you love zat stupid Amérique, non?"

He hesitated, still feeling the guilt of what had happened between him and Francis, lying about it and even being in the same room with Francis alone right now. His retort was, "That doesn't concern you, now leave me **alone**!"

"But, ma chère, I can't just 'leave you alone'. You can't just leave your beloved alone!"

Arthur looked like he would have thrown up at any moment.

"Look, Francis," Arthur spoke again. "I don't care how much you say you love me. **I DON'T LOVE YOU**! Now, leave me alone!"

He tried to leave again, but yet again, Francis grabbed him by his arm and pulled back.

"Now, tell me Artur," the long-haired man said. "You act as if you love Amérique wit all your heart, non?"

Arthur nodded.

"But does he love you ze same?"

Now baffled and furious, Arthur nearly yelled, "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, noting zat you don't already know?"

The Briton was dangerously close to beating the crap out of him. Not only was he constantly bothering and almost stalking him, but he was confusing the hell out of him, too. As much as he didn't want to hear it, he decided to ask what the frog meant for a second time.

"Well, face it, Angleterre, he left you before, non?"

He was seriously pushing it now. That was a low blow in _every_ sense of the term. The frog continued, "And he hurt you so much that you cried for days, maybe even weeks. So what makes you think he won't do it again?"

The Briton was angry enough to where his face had turned a sanguine shade of red.

Trying to keep from screaming to the top of his lungs, the Brit nearly mumbled, "You know damn well that you have **no bleeding reason** for bringing that up. That's in the past where it belongs! Now if you'll excuse me..."

As Arthur turned to leave again, Francis ran in front of him, blocking the door.

"Oui, it is in the past. Yet, as zey say: 'History repeats itself'. Remember zat, Angleterre!"

With that, Francis stepped to the side of the door, allowing Arthur to go. Arthur began to leave, but stopped at the sudden thought.

"Oh yes, there was something I forgot to give you, Francis."

The Frenchman closed his eyes and puckered his lips.

Being offended by the violet-eyed man's actions up until that moment, Arthur had no problem punching him square in the face. The shorter man smirked, knowing that he caused the taller man to bleed. He promptly left afterwards.

As Arthur made his way down the west wing of the hallway toward the elevators, he was approached by his worried and slightly irritated boyfriend, who was coming from the east wing.

"Yo, Artie," said boyfriend called. "What happened? I was looking for you _everywhere_. I mean, one second, you're right next to me, the next, you disappear!"

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to worry you. I thought I left something in the room was all."

"It took you thirty minutes to get it, if you left anything at all?"

"What? Thirty minutes?"

"Yes, Iggy! What the hell were doing? Are you sure everything's okay?"

There was no _possible_ way Arthur could tell Alfred about the conversation. But it wasn't like he needed to any way. Unknown to Arthur, in the midst of his searching, Alfred had returned to the conference room and had overheard most of the conversation. Needless to say, he was **PISSED**! But he managed to control his urgencies to beat the shit out of Francis for only one reason: for Arthur to tell him the truth. He was confident in the fact that Arthur couldn't lie to him, everyone else in the world but him. However, Arthur just wasn't ready to tell him yet.

"Uh, nothing's wrong. I guess I'm just a little off today."

Alfred raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Inwardly, he was disappointed that he still lied to him. He supposed that he couldn't be that confident in 'Arthur's complete honesty to him.'

He sighed. "Fine. Let's go."

Arthur's lack of honesty was _really_ bothering Alfred. But that made him all the more determined to get his answer.

* * *

**That is officially the end of chapter 2!**

**I really hope you guys enjoyed it. **

**Hopefully, I can reveal the night between Arthur and Francis in more detail in the next chapter.**

**Or I can have a romantic Valentine's day-night between Arthur and Alfred.**

**Or both.**

**I don't know yet.**

**It all depends on you, my beloved readers.**

**So, please review! **

**And thank you guys so much for the support!**

**I really appreciate you guys for it!**

**Until next time...au revoir!  
**


	4. Valentine's Night

**_Okay lovelies!_**

**_Warning: This chapter contains a (suckish) lemon, but enjoy it nonetheless.  
_**

* * *

_**Chapter 3 - Valentine's Night**_

"Seriously, Alfred, must we really go out tonight?" asked an annoyed Arthur.

Though Paris was filled with the sights and atmosphere of love and romance, Arthur was somehow not in the mood to be a part of it. Maybe it was because of the conversation he had had with Francis earlier that day. Or maybe because of how weird Alfred was acting. Since the couple left the conference building, Alfred seemed to have a strange, almost dark atmosphere around him. Whenever Arthur asked if he was alright, he just strugged it off with a simple "Meh." Had he been a little less concerned about his lover, he would've definitely scrutinized the "meh", but let it go for the time being. But Arthur could definitely that something was wrong with Alfred. He had a strong feeling that he knew something, but there was **no way** he was going to push it. But despite all of that, Arthur found it strange taht Alfred was still willing to take him out.

"Yes, we have to go! I mean, it's Valentine's Day and the city looks amazing! Look at it!" Alfred exclaims, pointing out of the hotel room window to a bright and lively city. "Why would you want to stay in when you can be out and a part of that?"

Arthur had to admit it was beautiful. It looked like something in some sappy romance movie. The moon shined brightly on the Seine, lights brightening all of the city and plenty of lovers about in the city; hugging, cuddling and kissing. Though he'd never admit it, Arthur knew that was one of the most romantic sties he'd ever seen.

"Yo, Artie," Alfred called, trying to get the attention of a now daydreaming Arthur. "You can at least give me an answer!"

"Hm?"

Alfred sighed. "Nevermind. Let's just go."

Before the Briton could object, the American literally dragged him out the hotel room without a second thought.

"**Bloody wanker!** Must you always be so abrasive?"

"As long as it gets you outside!"

"Where did I **ever** go wrong with you?"

Once outside, the couple decided to take a simple walk around the beautiful city, hand-in-hand like most of the couples out that night.

They had been walking around in comfortable silence for a little while until they walk along the bridge in the heart of the city. Noticing the moonlit river, they decide to stop.

"Wow," Alfred almost coos. "This is..beautiful." Despite his loud, obnoxious, rash, impulsive, self-centered and slightly pompous asshole-ish exterior, Alfred did have a sweet, sultry and innocently romantic side to him that only he and Arthur knew of. In all honesty, it was one his most attractive qualities in Arthur's eyes.

Arthur stops and admires the scenery. "Yes, it is very beaut-" Arthur says before a pair of rosy red lips press onto his. Alfred continues to give his lover soft, slow kiss then breaks away, saying, "Happy Valentine's Day."

Stunned, Arthur simply blinks at the taller man. He then relaxes and kisses him back. Alfred then starts to deepens the kiss. Though Arthur was never keen on public displays of affection like that, he decided to be lenient for the was Valentine's day after all.

They broke away, stopping to catch their breath. They spent only a few short moments doing so until the reconnected their lips, soon deepening the kiss. In the midst of the heated kiss, Alfred's hands start to roam over Arthur's bod until he reached the Brit's bottom, giving it a tight squeeze. Gasping, the Briton broke the kiss.

"You git! Why would you-" He was cut off by his boyfriend, who was stifling his laughter.

"Because I love you!" The American exclaimed while giving the Brit a slightly firm smack on the bottom. His face a now bright glowing shade of red, Arthur nearly screamed, "Would you stop that!"

Now bursting with laguhter, Alfred replied, "Fine, Iggy. I'll stop." Glaring at the blue-eyed man, Arthur crossed his arms and turned away from him.

"Aw, come on Artie," Alfred tried to reassure. "Lighten up, will ya?"

"First of all, you mean 'will you', not 'will ya.' And second of all, how can I lighten up if you do something like that in public!"

"Do what? This?" asked the younger man, who was again squeezing the older man's behind.

Still gasping, the emerald-eyed screamed, "Yes! Now stop that!"

"Okay, okay! I'll stop now." Alfred replied. Then he wraps his arms around his blushing lover's waist and rests his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. But it's not my fault that you have the most perfect ass in the world."

"Alfred!"

"Okay, I'm done. Sorry."

Alfred then lets go of Arthur and grabs his hand. They start to head back to the hotel. During their trip back, the taller man world occassionally grab the shorter man's behind, receiving glares and hard punches. Alfred's only response was a simple kiss on the cheek and a half-mumbled "Love ya, Iggy."

Again, Arthur let that slide. The moment was too perfect to ruin by scolding, after all.

Once back in the hotel room, Arthur sat down on the bed and immediately start to strip off his clothes, only to stop once in boxers. While he was doing so, Alfred was in the bathroom doing the same. In nothing but his boxers, Alfred comes charging out of the bathroom, leaps, and lands on the bed, pulling Arthur next to him. The latter jumped and screamed at the other, "YOU BLOODY GIT! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT!"

Bursting out in laughter, the American teased, "I was being spontaneous and I thought that would have turned you on."

"How can it turn me on if I nearly have a bleeding HEART ATTACK!"

"Aww, relax, Iggy," Alfred says before gently leaning in to kiss his British lover.

"Ugh, I don't know what I'm going to with you, Alfred," replies an irritated yet amused Arthur, who then kisses his American lover back. Alfred then deepens the kiss when he gently pressed his tongue onto Arthur's lips, asking for entrance, which was granted. For a few long moments, the couple had been battling for dominance. Alfred kissed as if he was more than sure he was going to win the battle, but Arthur was bent on not losing. Unfortunately, he did. Now recognizing his victory, Alfred then climbs on top of Arthur, still kissing him, but with more vigor and desire.

Alfred slowly makes his trail of kisses down Arthur's neck and collarbone. Arthur absentmindedly let out soft moans. Alfred's hands then start to roam over the smaller man's body, earning more soft moans. Alfred then moves down to suck, lick and even bite on his lover's chest and nipples. Arthur continued to let out soft moans. "A-ah Alfred." Said man continued to leave 'love marks' over his lover's body until he stopped at his boxers. He then smirked and decided to tease the sandy-blonde man.

Tugging at it, Alfred teased, "Hm, quite the tent you have here, huh?"

"Alfred, you wanker, stop teasing!"

"What? I just want to know what you want me to do about it."

Panting, he said, "STOP BLEEDING TEASING ME! Just do something already!"

Chuckling, Alfred did as he was told, slowly removing Arthur's boxers. He then gently pressed his tongue onto the tip of Arthur's member. The younger man licked and sucked on it, earning slightly louder moans from the older man. His smirk grew a little more. He took all of the older man's member into his mouth, receiving louder moans.

"N-nngh, Al-Alfred."

With his own member becoming more erect at the sounds of Arthur's sex noises, Alfred slowly removes his own boxers and disposed of them on the floor. He then leans up to blindly reach for the questionably open bottle of lube that was sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. He started to rub some onto his hands when he heard Arthur make soft groans due to the lack of attention he started to feel. That made Alfred only smirk more.

Laughing slyly and rubbing some of the lube on Arthur's stomach, Alfred said, "I only stopped for like two seconds and yet, you miss me already."

"Belt up and fuck me, you bloody git!"

Still chuckling at his lover's reactions, Alfred put more lube onto his fingers and slowly and gently inserted his index finger into Arthur's entrance.

"Ahh," Arthur winced.

"Sorry," Alfred reassured, lightly kissing him on the forehead.

Alfred started to pull his finger in and press it back into Arthur's entrance rhythmically until he inserted his second finger in. He felt Arthur tense up a little.

"Relax."

Arthur did so and eventually arched his hips up to try to get more of Alfred's touch. By then, Alfred had already started making scissor-like motions, trying to open Arthur up more, which in turn resulted in more moans.

"A-Al-fred."

Named added his third finger, still making slow, rhythmic insertions into his smaller lover. Said lover continued to arch up and make more noises, which only pleased the taller man more.

Smirking, Alfred removed his fingers and rubbed some lube on his length. He then added his length as a replacement to his finger.

"AAH!" Arthur yelled, not quite used to the feeling.

Reassuringly, Alfred gently pressed his lips onto Arthur's, saying, "Relax, I'll take it slow." Arthur simply nodded and motioned for him to continue.

Slowly, Alfred thrusted into Arthur, making sure not to be too rough. A few moments later, he had heard Arthur faintly say, "Faster." Alfred did as he was told and picked up the pace, still making sure not to be too rough.

"Faster."

Alfred picked up the pace, this time grabbing Arthur's member and pumping it in rhythm with his thrusts. Soon after, he had finally pounded onto Arthur's prostate.

"Ah-Ahh Al-Alfred!"

For a few longer moments, they continued at that fast yet rhythmic pace, coming closer to their climax by each passing second.

"Ah-Ah! Alfred, I-I'm-"

Arthur could barely finish a thought. He was in ecstacy and loving it! With only a few more pounds to the prostate, Arthur soon found himself dangerously close to the edge.

"Al-Alfred, I'm g-going to c-"

"I know. Me too."

One more thrust and Arthur released all over his and Alfred's chest. Soon after, Alfred released inside of Arthur. For a couple of minutes, Alfred stayed as he was, simply gazing to a pair of emerald orbs and admiring. He eventually pulled out of Arthur and laid down next to him.

"I love you, Iggy," Alfred said with a semi-sweet smile and half-smirk.

"I love you too, you git," Arthur replied with only a smirk.

Soon after, the couple drifted off to sleep, Alfred dreaming of him and Arthur, and Arthur only having nightmares. Again.

* * *

**_End chapter 3!  
_**

**_A few things:_**

**_1. I hoped you enjoyed the chapter._**

**_2. Sorry the suckish lemon._**

**_3. I, for a reason, decided to write the romantic US/UK Valentine's day chapter before the night between Francis and Arthur._**

**_4. The chapter that explains the night between Francis and Arthur is on its way, hopefully this weekend. _**

**_5. Reviews welcome/mandatory!_**

**_Until next time, hasta la pasta!  
_**


	5. The Night Revealed

**Hey lovelies!**

**As promised, the chapter you've all been waiting for!**

**Warnings: rapist!France! Rape scene (obviously)**

**Hope you enjoy!  
**

_**

* * *

Chapter 4 - The Night Revealed**_

_"Ugh! I don't even know why I let you stay here. I can't even be around for longer than half an hour," Arthur groaned, upset with a very drunk and very horny Francis. How he agreed to let Francis stay with him for New Year's was still a mystery. He'd much rather spend time Alfred, who unfortunately had to stay at home under his boss' instructions. He'd mentioned something about making new policies and passing new bills for the new year or something like that. Though disappointed, Arthur understood the situation._

_ But now, he was stuck dragging a drunk-off-his-ass Francis out of a local pub. Luckily, the pub wasn't far away from his house._

_ "Angleterre," Francis chimes. "Why are we leaving? We were just starting to have fun."_

_ "Oh, belt up, Francis! You drunk arsehole!"_

_ "But I just wanted to-"_

_ "There was no bleeding in hell I was going to let you molest everyone in the entire pub! Now belt up!"_

_ "Aw, you're no fun, Angleterre!" _

_ Arthur groaned and ignored the frog's comments. He finally arrived on his doorstep, letting out a sigh of relief. Once he unlocked he door, he drugged Francis in, closed the door and left the Frenchman by the front door._

_ "Oh, Artur, you're just going to leave me here? Zat's not very 'gentleman-like' of you, mon ami."_

_ "First, don't call me that! I'm not your bleeding friend! Second, you can handle yourself, so you don't need my help. Lastly, don't mock me! I don't have to be a be a gentlemen to a frog like you!"_

_ "Oh, Angleterre, you are so cruel!"_

_ The Briton rolled his eyes and walked away. _

_ "Artur, wait!" called the long-haired blond, now slowly rising to his feet. Arthur ignored him and made his up the stairs, up to his room. The violet-eyed man decided to follow him._

_ "Artur," spoke the Frenchman once upstairs in Arthur's room. He started to chuckle when seeing the Briton strip of his shirt._

_ "What the bloody hell are you doing in here!" _

_ "I just wanted to talk to you, Artur."_

_ "Can't it wait until morning!"_

_ "No. I think it is quite important."_

_ One glance at the Frenchman's determined and strong-willed expression, the Brit sighed in defeat and humored the man._

_ "What could possibly want to talk to me about?" asked a very agitated Brit._

_ "You and I, mon amour," replied the Frenchman, who was slowly creeping his way toward the emerald-eyed man. _

_ "You and I? What are you talking about, you git?"_

_ "Well, I feel as if you and I have gotten closer over the years, non?"_

_ "If being able to tolerate your presence for longer than five minutes is what you call 'closer', then I suppose so." _

_ "Well, over ze years, I started to feel like you and I have gotten closer and I started to feel like I..." he trailed off._

_ "You what?" the short-haired blonde replied flatly. _

_ "I've grown to actually respect you, Angleterre," the long-haired blonde replied. "I even like Angleterre like a friend."_

_ "You can really be insufferable sometimes, Francis." _

_ "But lately," Francis starts, inching closer to Arthur. "I realized I like Angleterre, like more than a friend." _

_ Arthur starts to sweatdrop and grimace. "Francis, please spare me this...whatever you want to call it."_

_ "What? I just wanted to tell that I've fallen-" he was cut off by an angry Brit. _

_ "Don't you dare say it!"_

_ "What, Artur? It's true, I have fallen in love with you, ma chère."_

_ "What? That's absurd! Besides, I could never return those feelings!"_

_ "Oh why not, Artur? Is it because of Amérique?"_

_ Arthur's face starts to turn a light tint of red. "Th-That has nothing to do with you! Now leave my room!"_

_ "He can't be a better lover than moi, Arthur. I'm the best there is," the froggy pervert had commented to Arthur. Said pervert pressed himself to the Briton and started caressing him, head to chest. _

_ "Get your filthy hands off of me, you bloody frog!" exclaimed the Brit as he pushed the Frenchman off and smacked his hand away. _

_ "Oh, ma chère, why are you so cruel to ze one who loves you most?"_

_ "DON'T MOCK ME, FRANCIS!"_

_ "Mock you? Oh, non, mon amour, I'm just stating facts." Francis' comments, reasonably, didn't sit well with Arthur. _

_ "Get the bloody hell away from me!"_

_ Francis, now becoming more aggressive, grabs a hold of Arthur's arms and pins him to the wall. _

_ "Mon amour, he can never love you like I do." He begins to press himself onto Arthur._

_ "What are you-? Get off of me, you bleeding disgusting frog!"_

_ Francis ignores him and begins to plant soft kisses along Arthur's neck. _

_ Pushing the offending man off of him, Arthur nearly screams, "Keep away from me!"_

_ "There's no point in trying to fight it, Angleterre. You know you want it..." He stops and starts smirking._

_ Even more aggressively, Francis starts to pull Arthur's unbuttoned shirt off and disposes it on the floor. His hand starts to roam over the exposed skin. _

_ "GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME!"_

_ Still ignoring him, Francis persists and gently presses his lips onto Arthur's neck and chest. Arthur tries to push the offender off of him, only to have his efforts fail. 'The bastard is a lot stronger than I thought,' was Arthur's thoughts. But he still wasn't ready to give up the fight just yet. The newly determined Briton tried every way he could to get the Frenchman off of him; kicking him, punching him, slapping his hands away, only to have his efforts continue to fail. _

_ "Artur, why do you try so hard to deny it? I won't hurt, I promise." _

_ "Then get off if you 'won't hurt'!"_

_ "But all I'm trying to do is show Angleterre that I-"_

_ "__**DON'T YOU BLEEDING FINISH THAT SENTENCE!**__"_

_ The Frenchman didn't, rather he just continued with his activities. Moments later, he stopped and moved back away from Arthur._

_ "It's about time you realized that-"_

_ He was cut off when Francis grabbed him by his arms and threw him on the bed. _

_ "__**YOU FUCKING MORON! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?" **_

_His question was ignored. Francis moved up to Arthur's spot on the bed and climbed on top of him; returning to kissing, licking and biting Arthur's chest._

_ Rather than asking that question again, Arthur tried as hard as he could to kick Francis off of him. Again, he failed. Francis said absolutely nothing, only grabbing a firm, almost painful grip on the Brit's legs and forces them to the bed. _

_ "Artur, relax, I'm being nice after all."_

_ At the sound of that comment, only word rang in Arthur's mind: trouble. He didn't like the way that this whole ordeal _might_ go, but he still didn't want to give up the fight. He was _THE_ United Kingdom, after all. He still tried as hard as he could to get him off. Nothing worked. So he tried to threaten him, since he amazingly didn't do so yet._

_ "__**FRANCIS, YOU BLEEDING ARSEHOLE, IF YOU DON'T GET OFF OF ME, I'LL FUCKING RIP YOUR BALLS OFF WITH MY BARE HANDS!**__"_

_ That threat only made Francis chuckle and speak in a sing-song tone._

_ "Oh, Artur, I know you better zan zat. I know zat's supposed to be your way of making me move, but it won't work!"_

_ A now impatient and even more aggressive Francis put his left hand on Arthur's chest and pushed him further onto the bed, making sure he couldn't move so much. He then grabs Arthur's slacks and boxers, pulls them off and disposes of them, all in one fast-paced motion. So fast that it took Arthur a little while to realize that he was even naked. _

_ He tried to ponder the thought until Francis quickly and harshly put his lips to Arthur's non-erect length._

_ "__**What the bloody hell?"**_

_The violet-eyed man said nothing, just sucking and licking the tip of Arthur's length. The latter pointlessly tried to kick again, but Francis grabbed both of Arthur's legs and held them in place._

_ "Angleterre, STOP!"_

_ Now more forceful, Francis took all of Arthur's member into his mouth. He licked and sucked away, rhythmless and impersonal, very unexpected from any French person. At the same time, he started to thrust his index finger into Arthur's entrance. But it wasn't a thrust more than it was a jab. He continued to move his finger in and out of Arthur, then abruptly stopped all activities._

_ "Artur, why aren't you making any noises? Don't you like what I'm doing?"_

_ "How the bloody hell can I like anything you're doing? I don't want this and you know it?"_

_ "Oh, but if I was Amérique, you would enjoy it then, non?"_

_ Yes. "That has nothing to do with you!" _

_ "Since that was a yes, why not pretend zat I am Amérique?"_

_ "__**You arsehole! That's absurd!**__"_

_ Francis chuckled. "Angleterre is cute when he is upset!"_

_ That angered the Briton more. Before saying anything, the Frenchman more violently thrusts two fingers in Arthur's entrance. He still had no general rhythm or anything to it, just plain violence! _

_ "AGH! STOP!" Arthur cried._

_ Francis had no reply, just added a third finger. He still made his movements as he had before._

_ "STOP IT, FRANCIS! STOP! STOP! THAT BLEEDING HURTS!"_

_ Still no reply. _

_ Francis then added his own fully erect length as a replacement to his fingers. _

_ He inserted his member into Arthur's entrance, not caring that he was going in raw and dry._

_ "AHHHHH! STOP! GET OUT! THAT HURTS!"_

_ Still no reply, just hard, non-rhythmic thrusts. It took no time at all for Francis to find Arthur's prostate. When finding it, he pounded it harder than he had done before. In doing so, he slowly but surely caused the Briton to bleed. _

_ "!"_

_ So stupidly the long-haired blond replied, "Say my name, Angleterre."_

_ "GET OUT OF ME!"_

_ Francis' thrusts get harder, surprisingly. What was also surprising was that Francis actually slapped Arthur across the face._

_ "That's not what I wanted you to do, Artur."_

_ The Briton refused, resulting in harder thrusts and more abuse to the face._

_ "Say it!"_

_ "NOOOOOOOOO!"_

_ More blows to the face._

_ "Say it!"_

_ "NEVER!"_

_ The blows to face only got harder._

_ "DO IT, ARTUR!"_

_ "Francis, STOP IT!"_

_ Chuckling, the Frenchman had thrusted into the Briton before releasing inside of him. Still chuckling, Francis pulled out of Arthur, cleaned himself up and left the room._

_ After a few moments, unvoluntarily, Arthur begins to cry. He thought of the ordeal he had just been through and how his American (true) lover would react if he ever knew. It was all such a heavy burden on him, he couldn't possibly bear it. He would have tried to anyway. His pride wouldn't allow him not to. _

_

* * *

_**Wow! HOW COULD THAT BLOODY FROG DO THAT TO MY BELOVED IGGY!**

**Anyways, please review!**

**I'd really love to hear what you thought about the long-anticipated chapter.**

**Thanks so much for reading and supporting (should've said that sooner.)**

**Until next time!  
**


	6. Just Tell Me!

**Warning: Angst! That is all!**

**Enjoy!**

_**

* * *

****Chapter 5 - Just Tell Me!**_

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Arthur screamed as he violently shook, jerked and twisted about in bed, waking Alfred up in the process.

"Arthur!" Alfred screamed in a fully panicked and alert mode. "Arthur!"

"Stop it!" Arthur kept screaming. "Get out! Get out!"

Even more concerned, Alfred carefully tapped Arthur's forehead, unsure of how to go about waking him up.

"Arthur, Arthur! Wake up!"

"Stop! Leave me alone!"

Alfred decided to get more assertive. He grabbed both of Arthur's arms and gently shook him while trying to keep him in place. Arthur only shook more.

"Arthur! Arthur!" A cuople of seconds later, Arthur finally opened his eyes.

"Arthur, wake up," said a still concerned yet calmer Alfred.

Arthur, still trying to wake up and gather his bearingss, replied with a simple "Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I _mean_? I mean, are you okay? It's kinda not normal for someone to scream like that in the middle of the night!"

"Screaming?"

"Yes! You were screaming stuff like 'Get off of me!' and 'Stop it! Stop it!' Arthur, did..." Alfred trailed off.

"Did what?" Arthur asked, now concerned.

Alfred's face grew to worried and pained expression. "Did someone..."

"Speak, Alfred! Did someone what?"

"Did someone hurt you?"

Arthur's eyes grew in complete shock. It would be difficult to for him to lie about that night this time. He already had a feeling that Alfred knew something about him and Francis, but shrugged it off. But now, he felt that he was backed into a corner. He felt that he needed to tell Alfred about everything that happened that night and even the conversation he had with Francis just the other day or he was going to explode. However, his English pride got in the way.

"Um, Arthur..." Alfred started, slightly impatient. "Aren't you going to answer?"

"Uh, uh...n-no, Alfred. I just had a _really_ bad dream."

"Just a bad dream?" Alfred was now downright impatient and even a little irritated. He was never really good at sensing the atmosphere, but when it came to his beloved Iggy, he could pick up on even the smallest detail. Sarcastically, the blue-eyed man responded, "Must be one of hell of a bad dream. It has to be if you've been waking up in the middle of the night like that for the last month and a half now."

Now upset with the American, the Briton stated, "I don't like that tone!"

"And I don't like that you're not being honest with me!"

"What?"

"Don't even act innocent with me, Arthur! Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"Well, honestly.."

"Don't even answer that! And how is that you can 'honestly' say I'm stupid, but you can't 'honestly' tell me if someone hurt you? Answer that, Arthur!"

It was very rare for Alfred to get _that_ mad with Arthur, or with anyone for that matter. Arthur's mouth was agape and eyes filled with shock, almost horror. Alfred saw his expression and sighed, trying to calm down.

"Look, Arthur," Alfred said, in a calmer tone. "I can tell something's up. And I can tell you're not being honest with me. Just tell me what it is, please."

"It's nothing of importance, like I've told you."

"You're hopeless!"

"As are you, _love._"

Alfred rolled his eyes and laid back down, his back toward Arthur. "Good night, _love_," he said bitterly.

The emerald-eyed man did the same, facing away from Alfred. However, he said nothing. Just sighed and went back to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, Arthur woke up to Alfred loudly packing all of his things, preparing to leave. He still looked angry.

"Alfred, what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm packing up and getting ready to leave. You should do the same. Our flights leave in a couple of hours."

Arthur glanced at the clock. 7:50 am. He had a 10:45 flight to London and Alfred had a 11:10 flight to Washington, D.C.

"Oh. Yes, that's right."

For a few moments, they remained silent. Alfred continued to pack while Arthur got up and went through the regular morning routine. Soon after, Arthur begun to pack.

As they packed, they said absolutely nothing to each other. Rather, they just ignored the problem and practically avoided each other. However, the tension in the room was as thick as a brick wall, as thick as the imaginary one between the two. There was also an unbelievably dark atmosphere in the room.

Alfred finally broke silence, not the tension, saying, "I think we should get going."

Arthur nodded.

Soon after, they left the room, checked out of the hotel, called a cab and headed to the airport.

* * *

The trip to the airport was just as tense as it was in the hotel room. Neither one of the men spoke. Just drop dead silence. The cab driver even sensed the hostility and attempted to ask if everything was alright, only to receive death glares from both men. That shut him up rather quickly.

They had finally arrived at the airport moments later. They both paid the taxi driver and left. They walked in, went through security and checked their bags.

They were about to go to their respective gates until Alfred abruptly spoke. "Look, Arthur, I can't ignore this any longer. Please, **please**, just tell me!"

"Tell you what?"

"You know what! Whatever has you acting so weird! Whatever has you waking up in the middle of the night screaming! Whatever has you looking me dead in the eye and lying to me! It's driving me crazy! Please, just tell me already!"

"Alfred, I-" Arthur was interrupted by an announcement.

"The 10:45 flight to London will be boarding in thirty minutes. The 11:10 flight to Washington, DC will board in about forty-five minutes. Again, the 10:45 flight-"

They started to tune out the announcement.

"Alfred, I...I...I..can't tell you right now."

"What do you mean you can't tell me? Why are acting so weird and secretive! Why can't you just look me in the eye and tell me the truth?"

"It's-it's complicated."

"But I can understand. Look, I'm tired of seeing you suffer like that. I really just want you to just open up and tell me what's wrong. I just want you to trust me."

"I-I-I really just can't."

"Why do have to be so stubborn! Do you not trust me or something?"

"It's not that. It's just that-"

"What?"

"You'd probably want nothing to do with me."

"Wh-what would make you think that?"

"It-it's-" Another announcement.

"The 10:45 flight to London is boarding in five minutes. Again, the 10:45 flight to London is boarding in five minutes."

"Alfred, I should probably be leaving now."

"What? No! Don't go! Please just-"

"I don't want to miss my flight. I wouldn't want to miss yours either."

"Arthur, dammit! Don't just-"

"I'll see you in London for the next World Meeting. It's four months from now, so you should probably prepare ahead of time."

"DAMMIT ARTHUR! STOP AVOIDING THE QUESTION!"

"I can't. I just can't!"

With that, Arthur simply walked toward his gate and quickly boarded the plane. He left a very confused, frustrated and sad Alfred alone. But knowing Alfred, there was no way he was going to wait four months for his answer. He was going to answer, no matter what. That was a hero's state of mind, after all.

* * *

**Wow!**

**Poor Alfred!**

**Okay, now I know everyone expected this to be the chapter where Alfred finds out Arthur's secret, but I didn't want to have that just yet. **

**I might have that in the next chapter or the one after that. I haven't decided yet. **

**By the way, before I forget, I really do want to thank everyone for supporting this story! Reviews and subscriptions really do help me write this and they make me excited about writing! So thanks again! You guys are lovely!**

**Anyways, please review!**

**I hope you enjoyed!**

**Until next time, hasta la pasta!  
**


	7. Mission: Impossible Pt 1

_**Chapter 6 - Mission: Impossible (Pt. 1)**_

Upon arriving back to London, Arthur promptly went home and shut the rest of the world out. How he did so? He locked all the doors, unplugged the house phones and even the TV, and shut all the blinds in the windows. He really didn't want to deal with anything or anybody that day. He had way too much on his mind. He went into the kitchen and started drinking out of a half-full bottle of rum on the counter. He knew it would be one out of many long nights.

* * *

Alfred's flight was about sixteen hours, yet to him, it felt like only two. For a majority of the time he spent on the plane, he was trying to devise a plan to get Arthur to tell him what happened. He felt the need to come up with a plan since simply _asking_ him wasn't going to work. He knew something was up, it was too obvious to ignore. But it bothered him to death that after **everything** they'd been through, Arthur** still **couldn't open up to him. He didn't even try! He couldn't believe him. But being the hero he was, Alfred was more than determined to get what he wanted, no matter what. That was the American way of life, after all.

So, when he got back to his house in Washington, DC, Alfred almost immediately called his little brother, Matthew.

The phone rings a couple of times before a sleepy sounding Canadian picks up.

"Hello?"

"Yo, Mattie," responds the American with a sense of urgency in his voice. "Did I wake you?"

"U-Uh, no, what is it? You sound nervous?"

"Nervous? Well, I don't know. But anyway, I need your help."

Sarcastically, the quiet blonde replies, "What's wrong? You didn't blow anything up, did you?"

Irritated, the loud blonde retorts, "No, Mattie! I didn't blow anything up!"

"Does it involve any form of torture?"

"No!"

"Bombs?"

"No!"

"Weapons of mass-"

"No, Matthew! Would you just listen?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. What's the problem?"

"It's Arthur."

Again, sarcastically, Matthew says, "Oh no, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! Could you please be serious?"

Realizing that it took a **lot** for Alfred to sound as solemn as he did, Matthew decided to get serious and tried to comfort his big brother.

"Okay, I'm done. What happened to Arthur?"

"That's the problem! Something happened to him and he won't tell me!"

"What?"

"Ever since New Year's, he's been waking up in the middle of the night screaming his head off and plays it off as 'just a bad dream.'"

"Have you tried to talk to him about it?"

"That was the first thing I did! I asked him a million times, even right before I left, but he wouldn't tell me. He wouldn't break! He could be so stubborn sometimes."

"And you're not?"

"Matthew!"

"You know it's true. But anyways, what do you think happened?"

"I think someone hurt him."

"Hurt him?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, just the other night, he woke up screaming stuff like 'Get off!' and 'Stop it!'"

"Now are you sure you weren't-"

"MATTHEW!"

"Okay, okay. Well, it definitely sounds like your theory's right for a change."

"Yeah, I know but I can't figure-wait! What do you mean 'for a change'!"

"Alfred, there's more to that than there is time to explain. But anyways, what do you think I can do?"

"I-don't know. I didn't think that far ahead."

Matthew sighed. "Only you, Al."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Again, it's one of those things that there's more to it than there is time to explain. But back to your situation, since you really don't have a plan, I'll let you figure it out."

"What! You're not helping me!"

"Nope."

"Why not?

"Maybe because it's three in the morning and you keep shouting in my ear!"

"But still, I-"  
"No, you don't. Figure it out! And good night!"

"Yeah sure. Later."

Matthew promptly hung up.

"Talk about useless," Alfred sarcastically remarked as he put his cellphone away. He sighed as he walked into his room. "Man, what am I gonna do now! Ugh, this is so stupid!"

For the next couple of hours, he thought of different ways to try to get Arthur to tell him his secret. He even wrote some down.

1. _Trick him._ That wouldn't work because Arthur already know his tricks. _"Bummer,"_ he thought.

2. _Bribe him._ _"Maybe if I don't talk to him for a while, he'll have to tell me everything then!"_ That wouldn't work because the Briton would enjoy the silence rather than be sad about it. _"Damn!"_

3. _Beg._ That was the dumbest plan he came up with so far. It clearly hadn't work before, so it definitely wasn't going to work again.

In the midst of his devious brainstorming, he had an epiphany, so to speak. He thought, "_If Alfred Jones can't get the truth out of him, maybe someone else can."_ With that, he was left with two options.

1. _Get other people in on it. _Admittedly, he didn't feel comfortable with other people knowing the details of his and Arthur's relationship, but at this point, he didn't have many options left. He figured that if someone that was close to Arthur, excluding himself, were to talk to him, maybe he'd open up. _"But I'd be the first one he'd tell something like that to."_ He then remembered the whole reason why he was devising these schemes in the first place. _"Damn, that won't work!"_

2. _Go undercover. "That would be SO AWESOME!" _he inwardly beamed. He figured that if he 'went undercover' to try to 'investigate,' he'd find his answer then. _"I have the CIA and the FBI for that._" But this was a personal matter. He didn't dare get either agencies involved. He had to get this information on his own. But not as Alfred F. Jones, but as someone else. Someone who was temporarily nameless.

* * *

**Maybe it's just me, but I feel an apology is in order, at least on my part.**

**1. I'm sorry it took so long to update. I know, no excuses, but I had a lot going on to where I couldn't update as soon as I could.**

**2. I'm sorry it took so long to update and that this chapter is so short. Really not cool!**

**3. I'm sorry it took so long to update and that this chapter is so short and it's not even all that good! All that waiting for nothing. I'm sorry! **

**Please forgive me!  
**


	8. Mission: Impossible Pt 2

**Warning: Short chapter!**

* * *

_**Chapter 7 - Mission: Impossible (Pt. 2)**_

"You're going undercover? You have _got _to be kidding me!" laughed Matthew on the phone. "That's ridiculous, even for you!"

"See, there you go with that 'even for you' stuff. What's that supposed to mean anyway?" asked a pouting Alfred.

Matthew continued in his belts of laughter. "I'm just saying, you reall think the best way to find out what's going on with him is to 'go undercover'? Seriously, Alfred, I think you've seen way too many spy movies in your time."

"Hey, you can never see too many spy movies!"

"You can if your name is Alfred F. Jones."

"Well, ha! That's the thing, my name isn't Alfred F. Jones, at least it won't be for a while."

"What are you talking about, Alfred?"

"It's Bond, James Bond."

"..."

"What?"

"Alfred, or whatever your name is, that's just dumb."

"No it's not!"

"Sure, but anyways, I don't think that's such a good idea **at all**."

"What? Why?"

"For one thing, it sounds totally half-brained. I mean, you don't even have a good spy name. You probably don't even have a good disguise either. "

"Oh, but I do."

"What is it?"

"I got some sandals, some ripped jeans, a long brown wig and a tye-dye shirt."

"..."

"What?"

"Just how dumb are you really?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your disguise is nothing more than a hippie's clothing."

"Yeah?"

"Realize how you're probably the _only_ country that has _ever_ hippies."

"Yeah?"

"Ok...again, realize that almost nobody in America wears hippie clothes anymore."

"Yeah?"

Matthew sighed. "Basically, what I'm saying is, not only would stick out in your own country, but you'd definitely stick twice as much in England."

"Guess I didn't think of that."

"Clearly."

"You don't have to say it like that."

"Well, I'm just letting you know. If you're going to come up with a crazy scheme like that, at least think it all the way through."  
"Yeah, sure, Mattie."

"Oh yeah, just so you know, if you get caught, I'm not helping you out."

"Dude, you're Canada. It's not like you were gonna do anything anyway."

"...Goodbye, Alfred, or whatever your name is."

"Bye Mattie."

Alfred hung soon afterwards. He then considered the advice his brother had given him. "I probably should come up with a better name and disguise," he thought aloud. "But I have to get creative." With a new sense of determination, he quickly left and decided to go 'shopping.'

* * *

After two hours of shopping, Alfred returned to his home with a fully improved disguise. He had brought a messy, jet black wig, black shades, a navy blue T-shirt, blue-black jeans and black Converses. He even bought hazel-colored contacts. He knew he looked like a punk, more like that guy from Green Day, but he didn't care much anyway. Besides, dressing like a punk was only part of his master plan.

He put his disguise on and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked absolutely mortified. "What the hell was I thinking?" He sighed. "Well, it's not like I have many options left. Oh well. London...here comes...shit, I forgot about a cool name." Then he carefully thought. And thought. And thought. "Damn, this could take a while."

* * *

Ian L. Johnson. No. That would stick out too much.

Jack Williams. No. Same problem.

"_H_ow_ hard can it be to come up with a decent alias_?" Alfred screamed inwardly.

Then it hit him.

"_Justin! Yeah, that could work. I just need a last name."_

He thought. And thought. And thought.

"_I might have to go through the alphabet._"

A couple seconds later, he proved he didn't need to do so. "_Barnette. That's not completely American. Yeah, Justin A. Barnette."_

He didn't know where the "A." came from, but it had to work.

With his disguise still on, he looked at himself once more.

"Alright," he spoke to himself. "Look out, London, here comes Justin A. Barnette!"

* * *

"Okay, let's see," Justin (Alfred) thought aloud. "I have the clothes, toothbrush, passport, deodorant, wig, shades, shoes…hm…looks like I have everything."

Two weeks had passed since Alfred had gotten his disguise. In the time passed, he had managed to get a passport and a ticket to London. He'd even gotten more clothes similar to that of his disguise. He felt like he was more than ready for his mission.

His flight would be departing in a few short hours so he had to make sure he had everything. He looked through his room once more just to make sure. "Oh, yeah, camera!" He packed a small, black digital Nikon camera into his suitcase and closed it. "Yep, that's everything." He took all his luggage and headed out.

* * *

**Okay, just so you know, next chapter will be about Iggy. I won't say anything past that. So, yeah. It won't take a long time to get upload, so be on the lookout for that.**

**As always, reviews welcome/mandatory. I really want to know what you guys think of his plan so far! **

**Until next time, hasta la pasta!  
**


	9. One Less Bell To Answer: Interlude

**Hello, again, my darlings! Yes, I'm back with a new chappy after this mild hiatus. Sorry for the long wait. One word: SCHOOL! Ugh! Anyways, this chapter is a bit short, but it's an interlude, therefore, it is intended to be short. But I hope you enjoy anyways.**** Some advice: Listen to "One Less Bell". It has to the Barbra Streisand version! She's just incredible.**

* * *

******_Chapter 8 - One Less Bell To Answer [Interlude]_  
**

Upon his arrival back to London, Arthur immediately slumped into a depressive mood. The minute he got home, he unplugged any and all electronics and locked all the doors and windows. As much as he possibly could, he was going to avoid the world. He had way too much on his mind and didn't need to deal with much else. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of rum out of the refrigerator. He knew it was going to be one of many long, restless, lonely nights.

* * *

Arthur walked around his living room, which smelled of nothing more than booze. As days went by, Arthur's depression had only grown worse. To "soothe" his pain, he drank until he couldn't feel anything anymore, literally. He could have broken a leg and wouldn't have noticed; that's how drunk he got! He tried as hard as he could to think about anything else that wasn't Alfred or didn't concern him, but never succeeded. He had pictures of himself and Alfred around the house-on the walls, his desk, and some just lying on the kitchen table-and even some of Alfred's gifts for him. At that point, the American seemed inescapable. No matter how hard he tried, Arthur just couldn't let Alfred slip away from his memory.

Arthur had found himself wandering to his bedroom, the one room in the house filled with the many things he and Alfred had shared. He picked up a picture of he and Alfred-a snapshot of the two kissing at a Christmas party amongst the nations-and blankly stared at it. Before he could even blink, he felt a slight sense of joy, which was overpowered by an infinite sadness. He slowly started to weep.

"Damnit, Alfred Jones!" Arthur drunkenly exclaimed to the air. "What do you do to me? Why is that every single time we argue, I end up like this?" More tears started to stream. "Why do I love you so much? Why is that everywhere I go, I see you bloody face?" The sobs grew louder. "How c-can anyone ha-have th-this effect on m-me?"

He slowly started to quiet down. "Why couldn't I just tell you? Why did my stupid pride get in the way?" He silently cried until he fell asleep.

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**Sorry, for the depression of this. I'll make the next one as bright as I can. Oh, Arthur will be meeting "Justin" aka Alfred (in disguise) soon! I should be updating soon.**

**Until next time, ciao!**


	10. Progress

**In advance, I apologize for the short chapter. Enjoy anyway!**

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**_Chapter 9 - Progress_**

Arthur was slowly, but surely, coming out of his depression. He stopped drinking-_as much_-and even decided to get out of the house, even for a little while. He figured he should, being that the living room was starting to reek of feet, booze and even ass. He decided to get himself cleaned up and go out for a walk.

Arthur, finally out of the house, was mindlessly walking around. He wasn't even focused on where he was going or anything going on around him. His mind was shifting from thought to thought-the last always unrelated to the former. He took a deep breath, and breathed in the fresh, crisp air. "_Just relax, Arthur_," he thought to himself. "_You need it!_"

An hour later, he found himself outside of Buckingham Palace. "_Damn, have really been walking around that long_?" At the time being, it seemed to be calm like normal, except for the few tourists trying as hard as they can to get the guards to-no pun intended-drop their guard. One seemed to stand out more than the rest. From a few feet away, he could see a punk-black hair, dark clothing and even darker shades-dancing crazily around one of the guards. He stopped dancing and started making ridiculous faces at him-pulling out his tongue, flipping up his eyelids, scrunching up his face in unimaginable ways. "_Repugnant fool_," Arthur thought. He figured to just ignore him and just go about his way.

The punk, however, momentarily looked away from the guard and noticed Arthur. He stopped all of his previous activities and walked up to Arthur instead.

"Hi, er, um, uh," the punk stammered.

"Hm, quite articulate, aren't you?" Arthur smirked and kept walking.

The 'punk' laughed nervously. "S-sorry, just, uh, flew in here a few days ago. I'm still trying to find my way around here." The 'punk'-or really Alfred-inwardly thought, "_What kind of lie was that? I almost know England like the back of my hand!" _

The Briton didn't want to blow him off-the option his gut was presenting to him-but he also didn't to be in anyone's company at the time. A little part of him wanted to stick around and get to know him better, but his pride would let him. Whilst he was in the middle of his deep pondering, 'Justin' noticed the far-away look in Arthur's expression. He decided to grab his atttention.

"Um, excuse me," he said just softly enough for only Arthur to hear. "Are you okay? You seem kind of lost."

"Uh, no, I'm alright. I was just, uh..." He couldn't find the words.

"You were just kinda spacing out a little there."

"Well, yes, I apologize. I'll just be on my way." He tried to quickly move past the American, that is, before he gently yet firmly grabbed his wrist.

"What the bloody hell are you doing? Get your hands off me!"

He let go. "I'm sorry, I was wondering why you were going so soon."

"I really have to go."

"Why in a hurry all of a sudden?"

"I-I just have things to do."

"Like what?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Ouch. That's kinda harsh, but hey, no hard feelings."

Arthur simply rolled his eyes. As he tried to get back to himself, a small raindrop landed on the tip of his nose. "_Oh, bloody hell!"_

"All I really wanted was to just talk to you, even for a little while," spoke 'Justin', with the upmost sincerity in the world.

Arthur stood speechless and frozen.

"You just looked like you needed someone to talk to."

Arthur was still speechless, however, he turned around to-uneasily-look 'Justin' in the eyes.

In the next few moments, the rain started to come down a little bit more, now in a drizzle.

"I should really get home. I have things to do and I don't even have an umbrella."

"That's okay, I have one in my backpack."

"No, I shouldn't impose."

"You wouldn't be, I insist."

"You shouldn't.."

"But I am!"

Arthur sighed. "_Why the hell do Americans have to be so damn difficult!"_

"Wow, that's very insulting there."

Arthur looked at him incredulously, then thought quickly to himself. "Did I just-"

"Yes, but I don't care. No problem."

Thunder started to roll and the rain only got heavier.

"Bloody hell!" Arthur murmured to himself.

'Justin' pulled the umbrella out of his backpack and opened it. He moved closer to Arthur and angled the umbrella over his head.

"I can help you back home, if you want."

"I don't need it, I'm perfectly capable of walking home by myself."

"You'll catch a cold out here."

"I'll manage."

"You'll get soaked!"

"I'll be okay."

"Be reasonable here! I'm willing to help you out! Why are being so stubborn?"

"I guess that's just in my nature."

That said, 'Justin' began to walk in the opposite direction of Arthur. "Well, if only you can handle yourself. Nice seeing you around."

The thunder's roar exploded like a car in a crash. Arthur yelped in surprise.

'Justin' sighed. "Come on, it'll be a lot easier getting home."

Arthur sighed. "Alright, straight home and that's it."

"Fine. Just lead the way, captain." He stopped and held out his hand. "Alf-er, I mean, uh, Justin, I'm Justin."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and hesitantly shook his head. They finally made their way towards Arthur's home.

"_What the bloody hell am I getting myself into?_"

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**Believe it or not, the moment you all have been waiting for is coming up, very soon! Give me 2 or 3 chapters to get there. I have to get everything together, but I do have the everything, up until the end of the story, already laid out in mind. Just stay tuned.**

**Also, just a quick side note, I started to write (even uploaded) a new story. It's called "Easy M", based on Hetalia (obviously) and "Easy A". It's a PruCan/Franada story. I hope you guys will check it out and like it!**

**As always, thanks for the patience and support! Please review...(if you don't, you're a terrible person...just a joke..teehee!) **

**Until next time, hasta la pasta!**


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